


no flame but your passion could warm me

by wyrmbloods



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Play, Dirty Talk, Face-Sitting, Finger Sucking, Frottage, Intercrural Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Riding, Sex Toys, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29351505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyrmbloods/pseuds/wyrmbloods
Summary: the warrior of light is not well equipped for an extended stay in the frigid temperatures, and it's up to no one but lord haurchefant himself to warm his heart and body, by whatever means necessary.(it gets out of hand, incredibly quickly and artorius gets a lot more than he bargained for.)
Relationships: Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	no flame but your passion could warm me

**Author's Note:**

> this one goes out to all my friends: okay you might be like a little right about the whole artorius being a bottom thing
> 
> also i cannot begin to express how explicit this thing is, it got out of hand, OOPS

The remnants of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn have been in the strangest state of affairs, in the wake of the...events during the course of what was supposed to be the celebration in Ul’dah. 

A blessing, truly, that Lord Haurchefant was so willing to take them in without any questions asked. They all had the sneaking suspicion that the elezen would have happily done so even if the circumstances were not so dire; Artorius could barely count on all of their hands combined with all the invitations to extend his short forays into Coerthas from the man. 

Tataru and Alphinaud are able to adjust well enough to focusing operations out of Camp Dragonhead, devoting whatever time and connections they have left to trying to repair what little reputation they have left. Not to mention, with the ongoing conflicts with the Dravanians, any and all tactical or material assistance is welcomed by the knights stationed there. Busy work keeps the pair from thinking too much of things to come.

The Warrior of Light, however, does not have that luxury. 

He stalks the frozen highlands not out of necessity, but out of _boredom_ , for sitting idle in the camp with nothing to do but sit on his thumbs lest the world begin to end does him no good. There are always plenty of creatures roaming about, threatening merchants, supply routes, errant knights on their patrols and whatever else have you. It all keeps his lance arm well trained. He has disgraced himself enough in the past weeks, lest he let it bleed onto the fine teachers he has had since arriving in Gridania. Ywain, Foulques, Alberic...even that bastard Estinien, wherever he may be.

(He sometimes looks to the peaks and swears he sees the outline of his fellow Azure Dragoon. Watching, waiting. They’ve been on pleasant terms since the steps of faith, but it doesn’t mean that Artorius wouldn’t like nothing more than to knock some sense into his fellow dragoon after their previous parting. Damn that Aymeric being so charming, he would have jumped across the temple of the intercessionary and clocked the other dragoon without hesitation.) 

Whatever. 

He shouldn’t think, for he’ll start to dwell on hurts old and new. The blizzard he seems to be caught up in suddenly has taken a hold of his attention quite fiercely. The redhead looks around him, and all he sees is a sea of whipping white nonsense. One step, and the ground beneath him gives way.

It’s going to take a while to get back to Dragonhead, isn’t it. 

* * *

Much of the camp has gone to sleep, sans the nightly patrols, but Haurchefant is wide awake, idly shuffling meaningless papers on his desk to play at looking busy to whomever is passing by. 

Dear Artorius hasn’t returned yet, and it’s marching toward midnight. He worries, for the man is prone to caring little for his own well being on account of his duties. Tataru and Alphinaud reassured him that the Warrior of Light would be fine on his own, but that attitude only gives the knight more cause to worry. While everyone in Coerthas is always thankful for assistance despite lacking in hospitality, Haurchefant worries the man will end up getting used and stretched thin...

He’s quickly grabbed out of his thoughts when he hears the doors slam open from the wind and someone finally entering. Too quickly, he raises at attention from his seat, like a puppy waiting for its master’s return. 

Artorious returns, thin cloak caked in white, muttering a quiet apology about making so much noise, before standing near the fire to warm up. 

“I didn’t mean to disturb your work, Haurchefant.” He gives a soft smile, shaking off the snow on himself, and tossing it near the fire so it doesn't track on the floor. “ ‘Tis a bit late for you to still be at your desk, is it not?”

“A bit late for you to be returning as well, my friend.” The silver haired elezen can’t help but sigh, and walk over to the older man who’s visibly shivering now in spite of his proximity to the dying fire. “You are ill dressed for the frigid climes of Coerthas, as always.”

“Tch, I was not expecting it to go from no snow to a damned blizzard whilst I was thinning out aevises.” Artorius’ arms wrap around himself tightly, in a pathetic attempt to keep in whatever warmth left in his bones. “I was more worried about the boy and Tataru staying warm. None of us were able to take much with us in all the commotion…” Loath is he to admit that he spent what little gil he had left in his pockets to get the two coats and boots for traveling, but he could not simply let them all be cold. He felt the sting of Saint Shiva, so he could handle a bit of frostbite. The chirurgeons here were well equipped for loss of extremities, he assumes. 

“Perhaps you should worry about yourself a bit more, no? You need only ask…”

“I will not impose on you f-f-further.” The chill betrays the bit of conviction he was trying to put into his voice. “You have done more than enough for us already.” Haurchefant clicks his tongue in admonishment. 

“Have you once considered that I mayhap enjoy your impositions? Come now, let us get you out of these wet clothes, and somewhere warm. I will not take no for an answer, and I will make you a drink to warm you up.” Their eyes meet, and Haurchefant can see in the older elezen's unmatched eyes just how tired he is. 

“A-aye.” He follows, before interjecting. “Perhaps something that will warm me other than in temperature…?” Ever since the banquet, he feels strange asking anyone for a drink or a meal he didn't watch them prepare, but this is Haurchefant. The only man he feels like he can explicitly trust, even without the circumstances. 

“We’ll have to see if my men have gotten to my liquor cabinet, first.”

* * *

Haurchefant neglects to inform Artorius that he meant to take him to his _personal quarters_ , but he can’t be too mad. It is warm and welcome, as is the help of the other man with his armor. His hands are too frozen and unfeeling to find the laces and clasps of his Drachen mail, but his host is quick to find and undo them, internally admiring the toned body hidden beneath layers of forged steel. The Azure Dragoon's skin is soft beneath his armor, and the way the other man's fingers caress patches of bare skin makes him shudder, but not from the cold.

(One would have to be blind to not admire the Warrior of Light’s figure and thankfully, Haurchefant has a _keen_ set of eyes.)

Artorius’ skin is marred with angry red marks where frozen steel meets flesh, and he quickly takes a seat in front of the fireplace in naught but his smallclothes. Normally he would feel a little shame or anxiety being practically _nude_ in front of the other man, but....well….he is _aware_ of the gaze on him from across the room. ‘Tis not unwelcome, the attention. 

“Let me go fetch you something dry, and that drink I promised.” Their gazes meet, and they both can’t help but smile. Ser Greystone first approaches, and pulls the duvet off of his bed, to wrap around the redhead’s shoulders. “Do _try_ not to catch further cold in my absence.”

“No promises.” 

* * *

As always, Haurchefant keeps true to his word. 

He returns with a spare set of sleeping clothes wrested from the supply room, and a mug of hot chocolate with the barest bite of bite at the end of each sip. It’s a comfort in more than the warmth inside and outside it brings; Artorius still has...issues drinking anything not procured by his own hand, so the knight reassures him of what is in it out of instinct. 

Haurchefant being the exception to the rule, of course. He thoroughly believes the man to be without any ulterior motives to bring him harm, and will stand by that. 

They sit side by side by the fire, idly talking about nothing. It gives Artorius the excuse to admire the other man’s profile, and the look of him out of his armor. Twould seem that the chain mail is filled out by his own muscles, rather than the other way around. Normally he would not allow himself to permit such thoughts but...so rare does he get a reprieve, alone with someone. 

He may as well take advantage of it.

“Are you not cold?”Artorius pulls open the fabric around him, inviting the other man in without words.

“I could do with a bit more warmth, yes.” He smiles, not willing to speak of his acclimation to the cold if Artorius is inviting closeness. A shame the man did not nearly come down with hypothermia sooner. He scooches closer, wrapping the duvet around both of their shoulders. “You are welcome to stay here as long as you like, my friend.” There’s an implied ‘ _with me_ ’ in those words, but he musn’t be so forward...yet. “I won’t hear you say you’re imposing again.” 

“Yes, well I can think of few things more _enticing_ than spending the night alone with you.” There’s a beat of silence, as the Warrior of Light realizes what he just said aloud. Mayhap he more than doesn’t mind the attention Haurchefant gives him, but he shouldn't be so...so _brozen_ with his words. The other man meets his gaze, with a smile, and gets ever so slightly closer such that their shoulders touch. 

“Is that so?” The knight decides to throw all notion of pretense out of the window. His voice drops low, face inching closer to the other’s. “I can think of a better way to warm you up, _Artorius._ ” The older man reaches to cup the side of his face, thumb gently tracing cheek. 

“Oh? Enlighten me then, _Haurchefant._ ” He bites his lip, failing miserably to feign innocence. There’s a beat of silence and the Warrior of Light begins to internally panic, _oh no maybe this was a mi--_

Then, Ser Haurchefant, like a true knight and paragon of chivalry, closes the distance between them with a kiss. It’s gentle, at first. The knight does not want to scare off the other man, nor does he want to let this end too quickly. He’s waited this long, he can pace himself.

(Probably.)

The pair kiss for a couple more moments, quickly growing in intensity as the lord of the garrison grows more bold. Haurchefant’s hands wander beneath the secondhand sleeping shirt he acquired for the other man, gently caressing the muscle beneath. He is distracted for a moment by the myriad scars that accompany them, lingering on a few strays that leave far more of an impression; ‘tis to be expected that the Warrior of Light would bear a couple reminders of the battles he has won, but it irks him just a little. His dearest shouldn’t let himself get injured with the reckless abandon he is wont to, and knowing the man...he probably neglected to see a healer before wounds gave way to permanent marks. 

His mind and hands should be wandering to other places, he is reminded as he feels Artorius wrap his arms around his neck and inch ever closer. He pulls from their kiss, and hears a quiet mewl of protest from the other man.

“I think it for the best we take this to the bed.”

“A-agreed.” Artorius tries to get up, but is quickly caught off guard by Haurchefant scooping him up in his arms like he weighs nothing, and promptly depositing him upon the four poster bed. The knight descends upon his charge once more, peppering kisses along the other man’s jaw and down his throat; he has a fleeting thought of perhaps he should proceed with due caution and not leave any marks on the man, for the sake of privacy, but Artorius can surely raise his collar just a bit higher. The man beneath him moans just a bit as he sucks on the delicate skin. _Splendid._

“You needn’t...be so gentle with me, you know.”

“The world is already so rough with you, allow me to be gentle for tonight.” His voice is warm, comforting, before it gets low as he leans down to whisper in Artorius’ ear. “We have other nights to spend with you as my _plaything_.” That makes the man beneath him’s eye go wide, for a moment. “For now, let me take care of you, yes?”

“Tease.” The older man pouts.

“Patience, patience.” Haurchefant pushes the hair from Artorius’ face, looking directly into his different colored eyes. “You shall crave me in time.”

“In time, he says. As if I don’t right now.” He shifts his legs a little uncomfortably, the heat between them growing with every word coming out of the other man’s mouth. “But, I, erm…” His gaze shifts away, for a moment. 

“Yes?” The silver haired man cocks his head to the side, confused. “A little too fast for you?”

“No, no. I just…” A sigh. “I should probably warn you because I may not be what you…” He brings a hand to cover his face. This is foolish. He should have opened with this, and now his insecurity is getting the better of him. Artorius is quickly brought out of his thoughts as he feels the other man’s hand on his cheek, and lips on his forehead.

“Worry not.”

“Y-you sure?”

“Verily. I would be a poor lover if I was not prepared for you in whatever form you choose to be in, my dear.” He pushes the Warrior of Light’s hand from his face, to make sure the man is looking at him as he speaks. “Let it be known that I have planned for every scenario, and they all end in your pleasure.” Artorius has a hard time looking him in the eyes, out of sheer embarrassment. 

“Ever good with that mouth of yours, Haurchefant.” 

“Oh, my good man, _you haven’t the faintest how good._ ” Their lips meet again, and Haurchefant’s hands wander all about the other man’s body and undresses him. He pulls away to kiss bare shoulders and collarbones, leaving a trail of red marks in his wake. “You...are so beautiful, Artorius, your body Halone’s blessings give form.” The knight resumes drinking in the other man’s bare chest, marking his territory. The thought of knowing Artorius walking around Dragonhead with such a sordid secret known only to him beneath his armor ignites the embers of passion in his gut; the flames threaten to engulf him as his mouth finds its way around one of the man’s nipples and sucks.

“Hau-Haurchefant!” Artorius back arches up ever so slightly, caught off guard by how pleasant the feeling is. Calling the other man’s name is a little louder than he intends and he looks away, embarrassed. “I, erm. My apologies.” Haurchefant pulls away, curious expression on his face. 

“Liked that, did you?” 

“Perhaps.”

“Then let me indulge you a little more. Come, come.” Haurchefant moves himself closer to the top of the bed, back resting against pillows and the headboard, before gently patting between his legs for Artorius to come sit between them.The older man follows, kicking off his pants as he closes the distance between them with a kiss before quickly being turned around with his back resting against the other’s chest. He’s about to utter a complaint when he feels Haurchefant caressing his chest and the man’s already hard erection pressing against his backside. It nearly makes his mouth go dry in anticipation, before he is reminded of the growing heat between his own; he musn’t rush, lest this pleasurable dream of his be over before it begins. Haurchefant’s hands massage the deep scars beneath beneath his pectorals, before both of his hands find their way back to Artorius’ nipples and begin to twist and pull until the man beneath him is trying (and failing) to keep himself from making further noise. Heels dig their way into the mattress and toes curl as Haurchefant tries to get more out of him. 

“There’s no need to be so quiet, please, I _want_ to hear you.” Artorius looks at him, eyes slightly unfocused, but embarrassment plain on his face. “Do not feel shame in enjoying yourself.”

“It is not… _shame…_ it has merely been a long time. I’m far more sensitive than I remembered.” _More like I haven’t had a partner who knew what they were doing. Also a only a little shame._ “You can play with my chest all night—”

“Oh, a challenge?”

“—It was **_not_ ** . I don’t think there would be anything left for you after.” He sighs. “I want _you_ , Haurchefant. I’d ask you if you felt the same, but I appear to have my answer.” The older man bucks his hips ever so slightly against the other, and gets a stifled moan as his answer. It makes a blush crawl to his already flushed complexion.

“As you wish, then. I’ll leave your chest alone, _for now_. Do not assume my hands will not wander again later.” Haurchefant takes one hand and uses it to turn the other’s face to kiss him once more; his other wanders lower in the midst of his distraction to find its way nestled between Artorius’ tightly clenched thighs. He pulls from their kiss. “Don’t be shy now, dear. Spread yourself for me.” 

“You make such embarrassing requests so easily.” He feels so shy, now, practically nude and feeling exposed in a way he is not familiar. He has laid with other men before, occasionally indulging in the pleasures of the flesh. Alas, Haurchefant is not like other men….

“What is there to be embarrassed of? ‘Tis only me, and these deft fingers of mine.” The knight smiles, rubbing soft circles with his thumb on the other man’s thighs to reassure him. “I merely want to please you, if you would allow me.” He tries to think of something that would maybe make Artorius less anxious, reaching for the easiest solution. “Why not close your eyes, for now? Be at ease when I touch you.” He sees Artorius close his eyes slowly, and feels the tension melt away against him. 

_Perfect._

Haurchefant cannot get over how _cute_ the other man is, now that he doesn’t have to worry about their gazes meeting and the moment being ruined with a quickly turned head. This time, his hand finds its way between Artorius’ legs with no resistance and he is quickly aware _just_ how much the Warrior of Light wants him.

It is then that Haurchefant decides he is going to **_wreck this man_**.

(So much for his promises of treating him gently.)

He teases, at first, ghosting a finger up and down where smallclothes have been thoroughly soaked through; Artorius bites his lip and lets out the smallest, most pathetic whine from a light touch. Haurchefant slips beneath the other man’s underwear, before running his finger along the length of his lover’s slit. Artorius is so hot, wet, _wanting_ \--all just for him.

_What an honor_. 

“How long has it been, since someone touched you?” A finger teases at the other man’s entrance. “ _Pleased_ _you_? Too long, I wager.” 

With no resistance Haurchefant’s middle finger presses inside of the older man, before lazily thrusting in and out and having his ring finger join it inside. Through gritted teeth, Artorius tries to breathe and keep his composure; his determination quickly crumbles as the other man speeds up his movements a pinch, the sound of the crackling fire now being accompanied by his own moans and the lewd sounds coming from his hole. 

“Do my fingers feel good, Artorius? Are they pleasing? You take them so well.” He deliberates for a moment, before slipping in his index finger and beginning to angle them _just so_ as he thrusts them deeper, trying to find the man’s sweet spot. His attempts still leave Artorius mewling at his touch, unable to give a proper answer--it’ll do, for now. “Do you want more? Be a good man and answer me.” All movements stop, and Haurchefant spreads his fingers inside the other man to stretch him ever so slightly. 

“Haur--p- _please…_ ”

“ _Please what,_ sweetheart? Speak up, I can’t hear your lovely voice very well.” Artorius’ eyes open, to look up at the other man looming over him; he bites his lip, hoping it’ll suffice in lieu of a verbal response. It doesn’t, and Haurchefant starts pulling his fingers out to his dismay. 

  
“I’m so close, don’t…” The older man grabs his forearm, before he can get away. “I want as much as you are willing to give.” He pauses, sighing. “Less talking, more action, Haurchefant.” 

“Of course. Let me make us both more comfortable, first. I promise I will give you release, soon.” Haurchefant pulls away, and the man below him sighs at the emptiness he feels. The knight has a _terrible idea_ , as he shifts more to the side. “Artorius?”

“Hmm?” He gets up, onto his elbows. “Something wrong?”

“No, you are more than fine.” A smile. “Just be a dear, and clean these for me?” The knight presses his three fingers, still slick with Artorius’ desire, against the older man’s lips. 

One would have expected more hesitation, more anxiety from the man.

Instead Artorius sits up, grabs Haurchefant’s wrist and takes the man’s ring finger in his mouth digit by digit. His tongue laps up every bit of himself, until not a single drop remains, before moving onto the other fingers. Each one is cleaned and finished with a satisfying pop as the last ilm leaves his mouth; the redhead smiles, face flushed once more. 

“Did I do a good job?”

“ _Excellent._ ” Haurchefant grins, using his now cleaned hand to cup the side of Artorius’ face. “Do you like that? Me, telling how wonderful you are? I am happy to inform you, in much greater detail.” He would have assumed Artorius tired of praise, for he is ever showered with it in his duties. The battlefield and the bedroom are incredibly different fronts, of course...

“ ‘Tis welcome, yes.” He is loath to admit how much it turns him on, to be so pleasing from the most basic of things. “But as much as I savor the taste of your honeyed words, Haurchefant, I think I would like to shut you up.” That makes the other man’s eyebrows shoot up unto his hairline, out of both surprise and curiosity.

“I...if you insist.”

“I do.” Artorius rises to stand, patting the space on the bed. “Lie down for me, would you? Pray forgive my...inexperience, but I would...like to...” Suddenly he feels all too embarrassed to actually say it out loud, but Haurchefant nods. An interesting choice, definitely, but incredibly fun. 

“Aye, I know what you want of me. I was feeling a bit peckish anyhow…”

“ _Must you._ ”

“Indeed, I must! Please, use my face as your throne and sit upon it.” Artorius rolls his eyes, before getting up to pull off his underwear, at last. Haurchefant awaits him as he turns around, obviously having been staring a moment earlier. “Some would consider that a bit rude, you know.” He smiles through his words, as he climbs on top of the other man to sit on his chest.

“Merely enjoying the view.” The knight looks up at the other man, looming over him. “As I am now. Ever breathtaking.” 

“Famous last words, Haurchefant. Smack my thigh twice, if you need me to stop, okay?” A nod.

As ever, Ser Greystone is a man of his word. 

Artorius has to grip the headboard with white knuckles as he feels Haurchefant’s mouth upon him; the younger man grips his thighs so there is no escape, no reprieve. He bites his lip to quiet the moans that threaten to escape from his mouth, all too worried about being caught by a random knight on patrol.

But then, _oh_ , Haurchefant sucks a little too hard in the right place and his legs feel like they’re made of nothing as he _shudders_.

“Ha...Haurche…” Words nor names are coming out properly, his mind solely focused on how wonderful the other man’s mouth feels. Artorius doesn’t think, taking one hand and placing it on the top of Haurchefant’s head before promptly crushing the man’s head further into him.

( _Oh,_ Haurchefant thinks in the moment, _this may be my end,_ as he feels the space around his head grow tight from thighs beginning to crush his skull. His grip slackens ever so slightly on Artorius' thighs, but he keeps himself focused on the task at hand--well, mouth--as he feels the whole of Artorius shake around him.)

Naught but a handful of moments pass before he’s good and undone, and Haurchefant is able to lift the older man up and off of him, so he can catch his breath. Artorius falls uselessly on his back on the bed, still making sure to close his legs and cover his face (out of embarrassment, the knight presumes). He grabs a spare rag off of his nightstand, to wipe his face before crawling over to lay next to him. 

“I pray I did not overwhelm you.”

“I’m...fine. More than fine.” Artorius peeks a honey colored eye from between his fingers. “Not used to being looked at so thoroughly, is all. I’m quite used to asking people to shut the lights on the rare occasion I’ve caught someone’s attention...” _I still owe Thancred an apology about that night, should the man be alive..._

“Oh, so your shyness isn’t merely for me.” He reaches and pushes hands out of the other man’s face, so he can’t hide. “Do you want to stop? Are you tired, sweetheart?” 

“I can keep going, worry not.” The older man smiles, crawling over to kiss him on the bridge of his nose. “Wouldn’t be very fair if you spent all night pleasing only me, now would it?”

“I do so at _my_ pleasure, but I wouldn’t mind becoming a bit more involved.” A smile. “Allow me to _undress_. Just be good and lay down for me, alright?” 

“O-of course.” 

It isn’t missed on Haurchefant, how the Warrior of Light is so quick to obey his requests despite his own anxieties, or the way a flush rises once again to his cheeks whenever he’s given the slightest onze of praise. He keeps it in the back of his mind, to remember for the near future, as he struggles to get his breeches off without issue; he himself is so hard and painfully tenting against the fabric that it’s a wonder he hasn’t already lost his battle with his waning patience. 

How many nights, since they first met, has Haurchefant guiltily touched himself with only thoughts of Artorius? An ever increasing list of what-if’s that started as mere romantic advances gone awry, now all culminating in something like _this._ He sighs, dreamily, kicking the last vestiges of his sleepwear to the floor. He can worry about the state of his quarters on the morrow. He pulls a small bottle out of his bedside table, before climbing on top of his lover again and quickly pulling the man into a kiss. 

They spend a couple of minutes just kissing and getting comfortable, with Haurchefant sliding himself between Artorius’ legs and beginning to rub his painfully erect cock against the man’s entrance; he swallows the older man’s moans with each thrust and he cannot help but _grin._

“Haurchefant, _please.”_ Artorius pulls away, pouting. 

“ _Please,_ what? You? Me? Must I again encourage you to use your words, or are you going to tell me what you want?” He really should stop teasing so much, but the other man’s reactions are so cute, so _genuine_ , that he can’t help himself. There’s a beat of silence.

“Haurchefant Greystone, Lord of Camp Dragonhead, I _want_ you to _fuck me, relentlessly._ Is that clear enough, for you?” The Warrior of Light wraps his legs around Haurchefant’s waist, loosely. “Need I give you instructions, or can you use your imagination?”

“All I needed to hear, but, ah. These should be a little higher, for what I’ll be doing.” The knight takes the other man’s legs, one by one, and hooks them over his shoulders. “ _Relentlessly_ , you say. I thought you didn’t want to disturb the whole of the camp with too much noise?” It’s a bit difficult to maneuver in this position and retrieve the vial of oil to prepare himself, but he manages well enough; there isn’t a _practical_ reason to go the extra mile, but if it assures Artorius’ comfort, he might as well. The last thing he wants is for the night to be an unpleasant memory. 

“I can be quiet.”

“You were quite vocal a couple moments ago, though.” To demonstrate his point, Haurchefant just _barely_ presses the tip of himself inside and feels Artorius squirm beneath him, half hiding his face in the pillow beneath his head. “You don’t have to hold back dear, no one is going to be patrolling near my quarters. Enjoy yourself.” Even if someone was, he doesn't care. He has nothing to hide. 

He doesn’t bother speaking any further, focusing on pressing every ilm of himself further inside of the older man. **_Oh_ ** , how good it feels inside of Artorius. There’s a moment of fear that he may finish too early as he finally bottoms out, the man gripping him so tight and hot it feels akin to _torture._

Then, Artorius lets out the loudest sound Haurchefant has ever heard from him, even in battle. There’s a moment of panic, that he may have gone too fast and hurt the man in his own excitement; it fades as he feels Artorius shudder beneath him, expression a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. 

“ _Already?_ I thought you were capable of being quiet?” Haurchefant clicks his tongue, not meaning a word of his admonishment. “What am I going to do with you…” Slowly his hips move and cut off any retort from the other man, who returns to singing a cacophony of ‘please’, ‘Haurchefant’ and something about being _torn asunder_ as he is thoroughly fucked through his second orgasm of the night. 

Artorius rises a little off of the bed to wrap his arms around Haurchefant’s neck and pull their faces close enough that their foreheads touch, before closing his eyes. He can’t focus on much else other than the _feeling_ right now but it is pure bliss; the chill that pervades every ilm of Dragonhead is far from his thoughts as he feels feverish from the Lord’s touch. For just a moment, he is quiet. 

“Artorius?”

“Mmh--yes?” 

“Am I to your liking?” Haurchefant slows down, recognizing that he too will succumb if he keeps up the pace. 

“Of course, Haurchefant.” He smiles. “More than to my liking, even, but I’m not as good with words as you are. My reactions will have to suffice for now.”

“Worry not, they more than do.” The knight nuzzles the side of Artorius’ face, smiling. “You fit me like a missing puzzle piece. I don’t think I can bear touching anyone but you for the rest of my days, darling.” That makes the older man blush.

“A rather _large_ piece, I’ll have you know.” 

“A shame then, your previous partners have been lacking, then.” A beat of silence. “May I...ask two things of you, before we continue?” 

“Of course.”

“I would like to switch positions…” Artorius nods, thinking it harmless enough. “...And, may I finish inside you?”

“Y-you’re asking permission?” Haurchefant nods. “Well, yes. You _may._ ” He’s caught off guard, but it’s a rare courtesy compared to the usual grunt of warning he’s gotten in the past. 

They untangle themselves from one another--Artorius whining at how empty he feels when the younger man pulls out--before Haurchefant flips the other man onto his front. _Ah, that’s what he wanted..._ is his first thought, and he’s thankful his face is buried in a pillow as he bites his lip in anticipation. Hands are on him again, as the other man repositions him that he’s on his forearms and knees. 

“Ready?” Haurchefant lines himself up and rests his hands on the older elezen’s hips, rubbing his aching length against the man’s entrance once more to entice him into answering. The only response he gets is Artorius slowly pushing him inside; when their hips are flush against each other Haurchefant gives him an affirming squeeze of the ass. 

(He laments, only a little, that there isn’t much more to grab.)

There’s less talking this time, and most of the noises Artorius makes are muffled by his face being firmly buried in the bedsheets. The crackling fireplace is slowly burning down to embers, and the sound of it is quickly overtaken by skin making contact with skin and Haurchefant’s own increasingly louder groans as he picks up the pace and feels himself teetering on the edge; oh he wants to keep going until the sun rises and someone pries him away from the other man by force, but his endurance only goes so far. 

“Ah... _Artorius_...I’m--” He has to stifle himself, because his own crying out will definitely raise the alarum, and he is loath to have to explain to his men why their superior was screaming out in the middle of the night with the Warrior of Light. One last thrust, and he holds the two of them against each other as he fills Artorius. The older man follows soon after with a stifled cry beneath him, going limp in his partner’s grip with a sigh. 

A handful of heartbeats pass, before Haurchefant pulls out, and Artorius flops flat on the bed. 

“Are you still alive, there?”

“Something like that…” Exhaustion has finally caught up with the Warrior of Light, and he is not wont to move from his current position even if he’s a little self conscious about leaking onto Haurchefant’s sheets. The older elezen turns on his side, catching a glimpse of the mess he is. “I should...clean myself…”

“Allow me.” A spare cloth and some water he keeps at his bedside is a poor substitute for a proper bath, but it’ll do the two men well enough for now; one of whom is useless to do anything himself and is putty in Haurchefant’s hands once again. For the sake of expediency, fingers find their way inside of Artorius once more and he shakes with every touch. 

“...is it alright, if I stay the night?”

“I wasn’t going to kick you out of bed, dear.” He is in the process of redressing the other man, lest he catch cold when the afterglow no longer keeps him warm. “I invited you, did I not?” Artorius nods, and Haurchefant brushes the man’s bangs aside to kiss him on the forehead.

(There’s a scar across it, he notices, that was hidden earlier.)

“You must be exhausted.”

“Hm, I wonder whose fault that is…” A smile. 

“Terrible, aren’t I? Saving you from yourself and the cold.” Haurchefant goes about pulling his own clothes back on, and retrieving the other blanket that lay abandoned by the waning fire. “Too _relentless,_ was I?”

“In my own defense, I did request it.” Artorius pulls the covers up, waiting for the other man to join him on the bed before properly tucking in. The younger man doesn’t hesitate to climb in, pulling him close to his chest. 

“I did not tease you too much, did I?”

“I would have said something if you made me uncomfortable, Haurchefant. I don’t think you’re capable of making me feel anything less than at ease, so worry not.” The redhead rests his head on Haurchefant’s shoulder, sleep quickly trying to claim him. “I’m much warmer now, after all. Sleepier, as well.” 

“Then rest. I will make excuses for you on the morrow, so you can sleep in, undisturbed.” Fingers brush hair out of Artorius’ face, and the last thing he feels is another kiss to his face before he sleeps peacefully. 

(Haurchefant watches for a while, seeing as how sleep truly relieves the tension from his face. The older man is so beautiful under regular circumstances, but looking upon him as he rests feels like finding a hidden masterpiece. What full lips and eyelashes the man has...and now tired he looks, with such dark and deep circles under his eyes. How he hopes tonight will lead to something close to proper rest...)

* * *

Haurchefant rises early by virtue of duty, despite how late of a night he had. Paperwork is the only part of his duties he ever chooses to neglect, and he silently wishes that he could make up excuses for himself to stay in bed a couple of hours more.

It feels like a crime, to disturb Artorius. The man is curled up against his chest and sleeping deeply; his arms are like a vice around his abdomen and one powerful leg hooked around him for dear life. _So cute,_ is Haurchefant’s only thought, _even if he's crushing my ribcage._

Alas, he has to ruin the picturesque moment. 

“Artorius, you have to let go of me.” A bleary green eye opens to look up at him, before the grip on him grows tighter and the older man nuzzles his face in Haurchefant’s chest. “ _Dearest,_ I have work to do.”

“...I’m sure it can wait. Stay with me a bit longer...” 

“I would, but it sounds like I won’t have another chance to escape if you fall asleep on me again.” He chuckles. “You’re quite strong, do you forget? You can go back to sleep without me, worry not.” 

“You make such a good pillow, though.” To demonstrate his point, Artorius presses his cheek against one of the other man’s pectorals. 

“You make a compelling argument, but I needs attend to my duties. We can cuddle more later if you so wish, or anything else you ask of me.” The knight nuzzles the top of the other elezen’s head. “You are welcome to my private chambers as long as you want, always. You may help yourself to anything in here, albeit my clothes may be a little too big for you…” There’s somewhere in the neighborhood of almost a foot difference in height between them and Artorius is a far more slender man. Something appealing about the thought of him in clothes a size or two larger than he would need, though. 

“Fine, fine. I’m not leaving this bed today, though.” The restraints on Haurchefant are released and the knight leaves bed to get dressed in his armor; it doesn’t escape him how quickly the Warrior of Light scuttles into the place he was resting previously like an animal seeking warmth. “May I get a good morning kiss, before you go?”

“You are awful bold this morning, Artorius. I quite like it.” It only takes the younger man a couple moments to get on his armor, and leaves his gloves for last so he can cup the side of Artorius’ face for a chaste kiss. Anything a moment longer and he _really_ will never leave this room. “Rest well.”

"Mhm...return to me, soon." 

* * *

“Lord Haurchefant!” Alphinaud greets him around midday, the blizzard that started the previous night having not relented leaving the young elezen frost-kissed upon entering the main chambers. “Have you seen Artorius? He hasn’t reappeared since we spoke yesterday…”

“Worry not, he’s resting in a quieter part of the camp. Nearly gave himself hypothermia, running around helping the knights cull some stray Dravanians.” He speaks purposefully nonchalant. “I thought an ice sprite fumbled its way into here, late last night with the chill he brought in alongside himself.” 

“Well that’s a relief. Where is he? I have matters to discuss with him while they’re still fresh in my mind…” The younger elezen thinks. “The man is wont to stay in bed all day if you give him the luxury of lazing about, Lord Haurchefant.” That gets a chuckle out of the older knight, realizing why someone was so stubborn earlier. Such a slave driver the young man appears to be...

“I understand, but could you consider letting him be for the day? Artorius would benefit from a day of rest, and unless there’s a primal threat, I think your plans can wait.” Haurchefant is incredibly aware of the extent to which the Scions wholly depend on the man’s strength; the older man will be cross, most likely, but he would have insisted regardless of the night they shared together. Further exhaustion would only hurt him. “And you as well, Master Levellieur! Cozy by the hearth and read a nice book, _relax_ for once. I swear the world will not end if your gaze upon it wavers…” He clicks his tongue, admonishingly. 

“I...erm, suppose not. A cup of tea and a nice thick tome sounds quite nice right about now that you mention it…” The white haired boy smiles, weakly. “Your advice is sound as always, Ser Greystone.”

“I did not get my position just for my good looks alone, Alphinaud, I’ll have you know!” The two laugh. “Truly, you all have more than earned a well deserved rest. You are free to take one at your leisure, but if you don’t, I may have to force you.”

“Duly noted.”

Alphinaud makes for a quieter part of the camp, and Haurchefant wonders how such a young man had such an old soul. 

* * *

The curtains of Haurchefant’s quarters are drawn tightly, so Artorius has no sense of how late or early in the day it is when he stirs; he is painfully aware that he is alone again in this big be--

In Haurchefant’s bed. 

_Keeper preserve me,_ is his first coherent thought since last night. _I have to go about my business immediately, and pretend this never happened._ Haurchefant is a friend, an ally, he took advantage of the man’s hospitality…

(Part of him says _he offered, and you merely partook willingly,_ but he elects to ignore it right now.)

The red haired elezen scrambles out of the bed, searching for his discarded armor and smallclothes, but to no avail. Considerate Ser Greystone must have taken him to get properly cleaned and dried from his adventures in the snow, damn him. He sits back on the bed, trying to think of some course of action that is reasonable. 

(Not running away from this bedroom like a shameful one _knight_ stand is a start, most likely.)

Artorius _enjoyed_ his night with Haurchefant, that is without question. A blush crawls to his cheeks at the thought of being touched, and he has to shake his head lest his mind wander back. He also does...care for the knight as well. 

(Care is an understatement.)

So rarely have the people he has met on this winding adventure actually wanted to see him outside of when they needed his lance. In saving Francel from his terrible fate he may have endeared himself to the man, but even he could see that it was far more than simple obligation. Camp Dragonhead had become something close to a home, albeit by a loose definition. He had quarters at the Rising Stones, but he always felt strange lingering longer than whatever was needed of him; the many supply runs to and from the two outposts always afforded him small moments alone with the silver haired knight, over a warm mug of something whipped up by the camp’s overseer. 

Haurchefant also did not hesitate to offer sanctuary before Artorius could ask him, never asking for a thing in return. 

He’s too kind. 

Especially to a man dangerously close to being a decade his senior...goodness. How poorly would that reflect on Haurchefant, in Ishgard of all places? That’s assuming a relationship, of course, and that is...never going to happen. 

Right?

He thinks back to last night and sighs. Haurchefant always speaks so sweetly, but something about the two of them, alone, felt different. He assumes the feeling is what one should feel when sharing a bed with a lover, or a spouse, but he hasn't the requiste experience to really place it. It’ll do him no good to sit here, alone, ruminating on it. Mayhap he should just ask the man, the knight has never given him anything other than a straightforward answer in their conversations beforehand; there’s no precedent for him playing coy with his feelings. 

It’s a satisfying enough answer, and Artorius looks about the room he’s in, a bit curious. Haurchefant did say he could help himself...and he is bored. It’s a couple of steps to the wardrobe that opens easily enough to reveal nothing but clothing: pressed shirts and pants for more formal meetings, a fluffy and downright silly looking jacket, spare clothing for under armor….leather harnesses for...something. His sword and shield, mayhap? The drawers aren’t much more interesting, sans a peek of silk or lace between otherwise mundane smallclothes. 

(There’s a concerning amount of different types of rope in the bottom most one, and the elezen elects to maybe not put too much thought into _why_ the man owns it.)

His nosy little hands find their way into the bedside table, which is empty sans a familiar rag, bottle and unfamiliar velvet box. 

Artorius assumes it some sort of gifted dagger, maybe. A personal gift that he shouldn’t be looking at.

(He opens it anyway.)

It takes a moment for him to process what he sees, before he promptly closes the box and puts it back. Rather long...made out of the clearest crystal he’s seen and phallic in shape... _oh_ , he can’t think about it anymore. 

His mind is going to wander.

_~~Wander to thoughts of Haurchefant alone at night, touching himself. Maybe thinking of--~~_

Artorius’ foot catches on something beneath the bed, to draw his attention away from such _lewd_ fantasies. A larger chest that upon inspection seems to be locked. Perhaps for the best.

“Hmm, searching through my things are you?” The sound of Haurchefant’s voice startles the older man from the doorway. “You’d best have been resting up until now.”

“You gave me permission to do anything in here, if I remember correctly.” He turns to look at the younger man, feigning innocence. “I only woke up a little while ago...whenever that is.”

“Well into the late hours of the evening. I brought you dinner, and made plenty of excuses to your fellows so they would leave you be until the morrow.” Haurchefant smiles as Artorius stands to face him, reaching to cup his cheek in his still gauntleted hand. “I missed you, all day.”

“I missed you as soon as I awoke.” The older man’s heart feels strange in his chest when he is pulled into a kiss that he has to pull away from when he feels Haurchefant’s tongue run across his lower lip. “But wait, a moment.”

“Too much?” 

“No, I--” Artorius sits on the bed, and sighs. “I simply want to make sure I’m not taking advantage of...this.” Haurchefant laughs. 

“Dearest, I don’t think you’re capable of taking advantage of someone on purpose.” He sits beside him, close enough that their thighs touch. “I care for you, Artorius. As always. My affections have merely given way to passion, is all.”

“And it’s me that you are so passionate about?” The disbelief in his voice is clear as day. “Aren’t I a bit…old for you? I am nearly two score summers...” And Haurchefant couldn’t be any older than thirty. 

“ _That’s_ what concerns you?” Another laugh. “A handful of years between us will do little to sway my feelings for you. I like a man with experience, besides. There's a certain kind of appeal...” 

“I think last night proves I have none of this experience you speak of.” 

“I mean _life_ experience, not sexual experience.” He peeks and sees Artorius’ ears flushed red. _Too easy to tease._ “I care for you, Artorius. _Deeply._ ” So ready is he, to say the three words his heart has known since he laid eyes on the man those many months ago. But he won’t force it. “If you do not feel the same…”

“...I do, I think. I may not have the multitude of words at my disposal like you do, but the feeling is there and it is mutual I just…” A sigh. “It’s foreign to me, is all. But I enjoy your company and...the way you...touch me….” He can’t even look the other man in the eye as he says that. “If you would indulge me again, that is.”

“I _will,_ once you have something in you. Eat, please.” Artorius raises an eyebrow. “Once you have _food_ in you, goodness. You were so demure naught but a handful of hours ago!” 

“You’ve rubbed off on me, it would seem.” Artorius smiles, before promptly tearing into a small loaf of bread. He’ll have to mind the crumbs. His eyes follow Haurchefant around the room, as he takes off his armor and puts it away.

(It should be noted how slowly the younger elezen goes about it, knowing that he is being watched with some degree of curiosity.)

The older man wants to say something, _initiate_ it, but he’s still a little too embarrassed to push his luck any further; curled up under the covers against Haurchefant is more than enough to keep him happy, for now. 

Even if his mind wanders to some of his findings as sleep takes him. 

* * *

Morning comes all too quickly again, and Haurchefant decides he is rather comfortable with Artorius snoring quietly on top of him.

He can be a little derelict in his duties today, as a little treat. 

Fingers find their way into the sleeping man’s hair, gentle as not to wake him. The knight is incredibly aware he cannot hide away the Warrior of Light in his private quarters for another day, but he would like to indulge just a bit more before Artorius inevitably volunteers himself to help with something he could easily leave in someone else’s capable hands. A bit selfish, yes.

“Mm….morning already…?”

“Did I wake you?”

“No, but your hands feel nice.” Artorius gives a bleary eyed smile. “I can’t sleep the entire day away again, I think.” 

“More like shouldn’t. I believe you are quite capable if it.” A smile. “You can rest a while longer. The new clothing I requisitioned for you should be arriving today…unless you would like to strut about enti--” He gets a glare that makes him think better of finishing his thought. 

“You didn’t--”

“And let you freeze to death in your armor that was in dire need of repair? I think not. I have very few things I bother to spend my gil on. Allow me to let you be one of them.” He leans in to kiss the other man on the forehead. "I would prefer to spoil you with things more enjoyable than armor. Jewels, treats..." 

“It’s not like I can stop you.”

“ _ **Correct**_.” Haurchefant smiles again, feeling a bit victorious. “I think my various collections can afford to wait.”

“Interesting ones, at that.” Artorius immediately regrets speaking, and flushes red. “I mean, erm…”

“So you _were_ going through my things, hmm? Anything interest you in particular?” Oh, he is _incredibly awake_ now. The older man spurts and stutters, trying to come up with proper words, but only expresses his complete embarrassment incomprehensibly. “Would you like a _demonstration_ , dear?”

“I-I...oh, well…” Artorius looks away. “...It’s a bit early for that, isn’t it? I didn’t even mention what I found--”

“Well, Artorius, what _did_ you find? You’re awful flustered by it.” Haurchefant raises an eyebrow, knowing the bulk of the more questionable things he owns are locked tight beneath the bed. "Never too early to get oneself motivated for the day to come." 

“You--I--you own an awful lot of rope.”

“Oh, that’s all? I like the feeling of different materials, is all. I usually am practicing knots on myself more often than not. Can’t do any of the more complex things on yourself though…” He sighs, wistfully. “Would you like to try being tied up a little? Nothing too complex.” 

“Just my hands...maybe?” He isn’t too comfortable with being bound but it might be nice to try. “And I...I would like to be on top, this time, if you don’t mind? Physically, I mean.” 

“Oh, you want to _ride me_? You’re spoiling me this morning...” Haurchefant grins. “...I may have to do something about that mouth of yours, though.”

“What’s wrong with my mouth?” 

“You are rather...loud.” Artorius can’t even defend himself from that. “And everyone is awake this time. I would not enjoy getting caught and have our time be cut short.” A hand reaches to cup the older man’s face. “Undress for me, while I grab the rest.” Haurchefant delights in seeing that there are still marks left on the older man’s neck and collarbone; he’ll have to leave a couple more that will linger. 

Nervously, Artorius undresses himself whilst the other man is preoccupied, knowing fully well he can’t attempt anything in the realm of being sultry. Haurchefant has already seen him nude, he is aware there’s nothing left to hide, but he still feels a bit embarrassed when he isn’t much to look at in comparison. The other man is so...so handsome, and built like a proper warrior. He can’t help but stare at the man’s bare back while he rifles through his wardrobe, and sighs softly to himself. 

Haurchefant’s ears perk up at the sound, and turns to look at Artorius awaiting him on the bed, sitting cross legged.

“Staring, I see.”

“ _Enjoying the view._ ” Artorius chuckles, mirroring the man's words from the other night. “Is there...something you want me to do?”

“Many things, but for now, turn your back to me and keep your hands behind your back.” Artorius quickly obeys, shifting to kneel on the bed and facing away from Haurchefant as the younger man works; such a strange feeling, as the ropes tighten around his forearms and wrists. He expected to feel panicked, but it is a strange comfort instead. Perhaps it's merely the fact that it's Haurchefant doing it, that makes it less unnerving. “Uncomfortable?”

“No, just a bit...odd. In a good way.” He smiles. 

“Good, good. Then, allow me…” The knight sheds the last of his clothing, before embracing the older man from behind, making his steadily growing erection well known. “...May I impose again? I would...like to try something you may enjoy. I may have pleased you the other night, but I did neglect one of your holes in the process…”

“ _A-ah_ .” He is so glad to not be looking Haurchefant in the eye as he speaks. “Well I...I trust you, and if it feels unpleasant...I will let you know.” _I have a feeling that it’s going to be added to the quickly growing list of things I shouldn’t enjoy, yet I do…_

Haurchefant gives an affirmative noise, before repositioning his partner to lay on his front, backside up in the air with his legs slightly spread open; he doesn’t need to see the man’s face to know that he’s probably a concerning shade of red brighter than his own hair. He hears a muffled ‘ _I know you’re staring_ ’ from the beneath him, and chuckles. 

“I do wish you would believe me when I say there is much to admire about you from my angle, dearest.” Hands find their way to rest on the man’s hips, and temptation overtakes his senses. “I could take you just like this, you know. Such flagrant temptation should be considered a sin…” Haurchefant spreads Artorius’ cheeks, before rubbing his cock between them and making the older man’s legs shudder with each pass against him. “I won’t, of course. Unless you ask me to, another time. For now, though--” He tears himself away to liberally coat his fingers in oil and teases the tip of his middle finger at the man’s hole for a second. It would be cruel to keep the man waiting any long in anticipation, so he doesn’t hesitate to start with the full length of the finger, slowly working in a second, then a third. 

The room is painfully quiet as Artorius tries his best to be quiet for both of their sakes. He isn’t sure if he _likes_ what’s happening right now, but it isn’t unpleasant enough to make him want it to stop; something in the back of his mind says maybe something bigger would be more enjoyable than just fingers. It stops for a moment, as he hears Haurchefant move away and he sighs. The reprieve is not long, as he feels something else slowly make its way inside of him that’s hard and cold despite Haurchefant’s best efforts to warm it with his hands. The shape is strange, purposeful and rubs him in ways he wasn’t expecting his toes to curl up at, until it bottoms out side of him and the knight is pulling him back to sit on his knees once more.

“Comfortable?”

“As much as one c-can be.” The older man shifts himself and the toy moves _just so_ that he’s distracted for the moment. “You are neglecting yourself, again, though.”

“Well I _was_ promised a ride, so I’m sure you shall make up for lost time soon enough. Come.” A kiss is placed against Artorius’ cheek before the pair go about the arduous process of positioning themselves with only one pair of functioning hands; Haurchefant has Artorius sitting in his lap, their eyes finally meeting again. “Do you need assistance getting on me, or can the _powerful legs of the Azure Dragoon_ guide you well enough?”

“I can manage well enough, if you can steady yourself for me. I've ridden far more terrible beasts than yourself.” There’s a hint of confidence in his voice, and Haurchefant likes it. T'would be nice to hear it more often. 

It takes little for Artorius to lift himself up high enough to properly sit on Haurchefant’s cock, albeit he drops down a little too fast and nearly makes a repeat of the other night as his eyes threaten to roll back from the feeling of being full of the other man once more. _Did he get bigger?_ Is his first thought that comes back to him once he remembers how to think, before he focuses on the task at hand. It takes so much to keep up a steady pace that pleases both of them all on his own, but a couple of minutes pass and Haurchefant’s hands are on his hips, guiding them to move in time with the man’s own. Both of the men’s voices are muffled as the Camp’s hallways begin to fill with the distant sound of movement; Haurchefant laments that their time is to be inevitably cut short, but recognizes he must make quick work of Artorius, lest the man spend another day bound to his bed. 

( _As if that was not an ideal situation, the Warrior of Light always lying in his bed, awaiting him._ )

His grip on the man’s hips tighten as he picks up the pace and steals it away, as Artorius leans forward to bury his face in Haurchefant’s shoulder. The older man’s body shudders with every movement, letting the younger man do all the work as pleasure overrides his senses; he feels a tinge of shame in the back of his mind, not lasting more than a couple of minutes once again, but he’ll chock it up to lack of practice. The urge to bite down on the soft, warm flesh of Haurchefant’s shoulder overcomes him when one last thrust redirects all of the tension in his body to grip the other man’s cock like a vice. Artorius’ voice is muffled as his teeth bite down on pale flesh, before there is what feels like hours of silence between them.

“...H-haurchefant...you...you didn’t…--”

“Mm, yes.” There’s a bit of a worry the knight has about indulging in letting himself finish inside of Artorius, and thinks of something else. He isn’t going to let himself go unsatisfied, no that _just won’t do_ … “Here, let me shift…” It doesn’t take much for Haurchefant to lift the older man off of him--the pathetic noise Artorius makes as he pulls out is not lost on him, something about ‘feeling empty’ makes his ears perk up--and to lie him on his back on the bed. Artorius cocks his head to the side, looking up at Haurchefant with confusion. 

“What…”

“Trust me dear.” Legs part ever so slightly so Haurchefant can slide himself between Artorius’ thighs. “It’ll be a little messy, but it’ll be pleasing for me.” A nod of approval, before the younger elezen lets himself enjoy the feeling of friction without concern for overstimulating his partner; the redhead thinks himself able to relax, but he is distracted by how the angle makes the object still inside of him shift and hit a different spot than before. 

So distracted is he, that he only realizes at the last moment where this position is going. 

(Specifically, what is definitely going all over him.)

Haurchefant bites down on his lip as he can’t hold back anymore as orgasm overtakes him and he splatters the older man in white, from his stomach all the way to his hair. He chuckles just a bit, looking at how dumbfounded Artorius looks. 

“Seems I gave you another streak of white in that hair of yours.” 

“You were not kidding about the mess, Haurchefant…” He sighs, every movement shifting the little surprise inside of him and making his asshole twitch. “Get this infernal thing out of me and untie me.”

“Did you enjoy?”

“Might need another, erm, test to see for sure...” Artorius is not so ready to admit he _likes_ both things at once. “It was pleasing, though.”

“ ‘Tis all I can ask for.” Haurchefant smiles, lifting up Artorius just so he can quickly undo the binds on his hands. “Let me clean you up, so we can attempt to start our day.” 

First, wiping himself off the other man and taking care to make sure there is nothing left in his hair; he may have made a jest about it, but the last thing he wants to leave is dried semen that’ll take forever to get off without a proper hot bath. Would not do well to force the man to give himself a haircut because of this. 

Second, pulling out his little surprise. He reassures Artorius that he must take it out slowly lest he risk hurting him, which _is_ true. It does mean he gets to enjoy one last glimpse of Artorius being embarrassed as he painstakingly pulls out ilm by ilm of the item in question before wrapping it in a rag before putting it away to be properly cleaned later. Haurchefant takes a moment to admire the man before him, rubbing his shoulder where he can feel the bite mark indented into his flesh. He could have bitten harder, blood would not have been upsetti--

A knock at the door interrupts the relative peace of the morning, followed by a knight’s voice.

“Lord Greystone! A delivery from the Jeweled Crozier has arrived, and you asked it be delivered directly to your quarters!” 

“Leave it by the door, Ser Cyrille, if you do not mind!” The sound of a crate being carefully placed on the ground is followed by footsteps that grow distant. “Just in time, t’would seem!” Haurchefant takes a moment to get on some small clothes before peeking out of his own bedroom door, and grabbing the delivery in question. “New armor for you, and I will not hear any complaints or whining.”

Artorius can’t fight him, this early in the morning, and allows himself to be dressed. It is much simpler in construction than the armor he had earned once upon a time via his fellow dragoons, the metal shines and the leather and cloak are dyed a deep shade of purple. Haurchefant says the color looks good on him, and looks lovely against his amber colored skin. 

He'll have to take him at his word.

* * *

Alphinaud and Tataru greet Artorius inside the Intercessionary, after he’s gotten himself some breakfast. The pair look him over, in shiny new scale mail. 

“Did something happen to your armor, Artorius?” Alphinaud doesn’t know much of the finer points of armor care, but the dragoon mail the man usually wears seemed in well enough condition. "You were not hurt the other night, were you?"

“It needed some maintenance I could not perform on my own after I nearly froze myself to death, and Haurchefant insisted on getting myself a proper replacement until it is returned to me.” The Warrior of Light isn’t lying, but he does feel a weird sensation in the pit of his stomach as they look at each other and then back to him. Tataru gives him a knowing look and he’s concerned by _what_ she has put together in a handful of hours. “Apologizes for napping the day away.”

“You are wont to be a bit lazy when I don’t motivate you…” The younger elezen crosses his arms with a sigh. “...but the three of us should take care to rest more often. We haven’t even made it to Ishgard proper as of yet and we’ve worn ourselves down.” 

“ ‘Tis to see your head level on those noble little shoulders of yours, lad.” Tataru snickers as Alphinaud flushes with embarrassment. “Let us go about our work for the day, though.” 

The three nod, before beginning discussions about supplies and heretics.

* * *

Tonight the tables are turned, as Artorius is left waiting for Haurchefant to return from a trip to Ishgard. The younger elezen’s arrival brings the cold into the command room and it makes Artorius shudder. 

“Welcome back, Haurchefant.” There’s a look of surprise on the man’s face that quickly melts away to fondness. 

“You waited for me?” 

“Of course, just as you did for me.” A smile. “I kept a kettle of water warm so I could make you tea when you returned, and we could discuss whatever news you came back to bear.” A longer and more contrived way of him saying 'I missed you,' honestly. 

“Too sweet to me.” Haurchefant closes the distance between them with a chaste kiss. “But good tidings do I bring. Count Fortemps has elected to give the Scions of the Seventh Dawn sanctuary under the house’s power within the city! You can freeze in the Holy See rather than here, now.”

“...Will you be coming with us?” Artorius looks a bit shaken at the thought of them being parted. 

“I will make the journey with you, absolutely. I do have to make sure to give you a proper introduction to my father and brothers.” 

“...Your father is the **_count_**?” The older man's eyes go wide. "I haven't been treating you with proper respect!" He recalls a day that he and Alphinaud elected to drop a chocobo sized snowball on the man as he passed through the camp gates and shudders. 

“Ah, yes, I--” He was _dreading_ this conversation. “I do not have any claim to the family, Artorius. I am a...bastard son. My deepest apology if it brings you shame…and you owe me no respect as a result of it.” His brow furrows as he decides to reopen long scarred over wounds.

“...Why would I care? I would have felt terrible if I had been out of line, but that's certainly not the case." 

“Would it not reflect poorly upon you…? To be seen with me?” Artorius looks at him, not quite getting his meaning. “Despite the allegations against you, you are still the Warrior of Light.”

“I do not think I am capable of caring about such petty things, Haurchefant.” Artorius puts a hand over his partner’s shoulder with a small smile. “That might be what people call me, but I still am a nobody from nowhere in the middle of the bloody deserts of Thanalan. And that nobody cares deeply for you. Should someone say anything untoward, I’ll shove my lance where the blessing of Light can’t reach.” They both laugh, and the tension leaves the knight’s shoulders. 

“I...thank you, Artorius.” What a pleasant change, from Ishgard, where his very surname is a constant reminder of what his status truly is. Artorius doesn't even bother to question why his name is not also Fortemps, so he needn't explain the stigma of what being a Greystone truly is. "And I care for you as well. Always. Even if you hadn't been the Warrior of Light when we met, the man whom I had the pleasure of meeting was the one who made an impression upon me."

“No need, but I think you must be cold from your trip back…” He bites his lip. “...would you care for another body in your bed?”

“As if you need to ask. The space in my bed and between my legs is yours, dearest.” 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @lievetels where i objectify every catholic elf i can get my homosexual little hands on


End file.
